Malltraeth Cob

Spring Light and Quiet Waters

Where the Curlews Call

It was a cold spring morning on the Isle of Anglesey. The garden was alive with colour—daffodils, tulips, and camellia in full bloom. From the damp soil, new shoots pushed upwards, fresh life emerging from its deep winter sleep. In the trees, the birds called to one another, their songs weaving through the still air.

Our friend Sam was visiting the island for her birthday. She wanted to see The Cob near Malltraeth—a place that holds a quiet kind of magic.

The Cob, just outside the quaint village of Malltraeth, is a place where land, river, and sea meet in harmony. Many of the island’s birds rest and feed here, while others stop during their long migrations. Shy otters slip into the cold pools, leaving barely a ripple, and wild Anglesey ponies graze along its varied banks.

To the east, forests stretch toward the horizon, and beyond them the mountains rise. On clear days, you can see the jagged silhouettes of the Rivals, Garn Ganol, and the Llyn Peninsula peeking over the deep green of Newborough Forest.

Malltraeth was once home to the renowned wildlife artist Charles Tunnicliffe, whose works capture the soul of Anglesey’s landscapes. Many of his paintings can be seen at Oriel Môn in Llangefni—a wonderful spot for art, lunch, or coffee after a walk.

We parked at Llyn Parc Mawr, where the community woodland group has been nurturing the forest since 2014. It was quiet—restorative quiet, the kind that makes you slow your step. Somewhere high in the pines, a woodpecker tapped a steady rhythm, and we were lucky enough to glimpse a red squirrel at a nearby feeder, nibbling intently.

After ten minutes of gentle walking, we reached The Cob. The spring light here was golden and strong, glowing off the water at low tide and creating mirrored reflections across the estuary. It’s a perfect place for photography—or simply for standing still and letting the beauty settle into you.

Out on the sands, the air was alive with the sounds of feeding birds. A curlew’s haunting call drifted past as it flew low over the water. Somewhere nearby, a wigeon called, and the sharp cry of a redshank rang out.

In that moment, the day felt like a gift—light, life, and friendship, all wrapped in the stillness of the tides.

Explore . Discover . Create